Invention
by Kage NoTenshi
Summary: Seto plays the piano. The story is more interresting than the summary is. [complete]
1. Music of Memory Lane

Music and how you perform it tells a lot about moods. Actually, I got the idea for this while I was torturing myself over the notes of J. S. Bach's "Invention No. 4" (the first piece mentioned in this fic.) It reminded me of Seto… I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! and I don't write music. I leave that to people like the classical composers and Nobuo Uematsu.

;##@##;

Seto walked quietly down the halls of his mansion, his eyes closed as he wandered his own thoughts. For anyone normal, it would not have been a very wise thing to do, but Seto knew these passages better than he did the ways of his heart-much better. He came to a room at the back of the house with dark mahogany doors. He sighed, reminiscing as he turned the knob. It was simply furnished, with only a couch, a bookshelf, and a concert grand piano. 

Memories haunted this room like restless ghosts, assailing him the moment he stepped over the threshold. Slowly, he walked over to the piano and seated himself on the bench. His feet touched the pedals effortlessly now, and his heels rested softly on the floor. His hands hovered over the keys, his wrists and fingers curving gracefully, waiting to stroke the ivory surfaces. The piano had been there since before he had come to this mansion. He had been the one to use it, though. It had been one of the things Gozaburo had forced him to learn, since music impressed important guests, especially if skillfully executed by a youngster. He had despised the black and white pattern as he strained his fingers hour after hour to reach the octaves and hit each note of the trills with crisp precision. 

But now… A sigh escaped Seto. People said music could be a refuge from troubles…

He let his fingertips brush the keys. The piano issued a soft, tender note. He was pleased to see the servants had taken care of it. He had had it tuned last year out of tradition too, so it still sounded pretty good. Suddenly, he launched into a song. It took him a moment to realize what his fingers had chosen, but somehow he was pleased. It was "Invention No. 4" by J. S. Bach, its quick notes a little clumsy from lack of practice, but still very much its own piece. This had always been the piece that spoke to him the most, with a title that didn't say much about its inner personality and the ordered turbulence within its notes. The minor key too had intrigued him, they way it seemed so angry and hurt at the same time…like he was. 

The lamp above the piano stared down, dead and dark. It reminded him gently of something long forgotten…

__

It was back at the orphanage, I think. Yes, after we had lived there for a while. It was that time of year called Christmas, but it didn't mean anything different to me. Just that it was colder. One thing happened, though, that made an impression on me forever. Somebody apparently had decided it was sad that us poor little orphans didn't get anything. So they gave us glowsticks. You know, the plastic ones that you crack and they shine for about eight hours. I suppose the thought was nice, but watching Mokuba's overjoyed face so full of wonder as he waved it about made me angry. Someone like my little brother shouldn't have been so easily excited.

I know he didn't remember, but I knew what times of giving had been like when we had a family. That he could be so satisfied with such a simple gift horrified me. He didn't know what it was like to be living well. He slept with his glowstick that night, and I let him have mine too. I certainly didn't want it. He drifted off immediately, but my eyes would not close. I lay there on the cot next to his as the hours passed, watching the lights in his hands fade slowly. It was then that I made a promise to myself. I vowed that someday I would make enough money to buy Mokuba a million glowsticks if he wanted.

The piano laughed softly as he finished the song, even as a sardonic smile appeared on his lips. If he had known how quickly that vow had come to pass…

He shook his head and started on another song: "Fountain of Diana" by Gillock. The notes ran together like crystalline droplets…or, he thought, like trickles of blood.

_Pain was nothing new to me when I was adopted by Gozaburo…even before he showed his true abusive colors. At the orphanage, I was still small. Sometimes I thought I'd never grow tall enough to make myself known. Of course, I didn't know then that I'd be six feet tall before I was sixteen. Anyway, being small in a community of outcasts practically invites, shall we say, challenges. Some of my more vivid memories are of bursting patterns of colored stars before my eyes. At first, I was scared to stand up for myself, to fight back. They seemed so much bigger than me. Sometimes I'd just lie there, even if I weren't too badly hurt, hoping they'd just go away. I'd wait till their footsteps had faded before even wiping the blood from my nose._

One day, though, Mokuba was with me when they came. Thankfully, they were only interested in me, but it really got to me that my little brother had to see it all happen. I heard him whimper every time a punch or kick hit home. As they strutted off, I forced myself up from the dirt, spitting bloody mud from my mouth. "Never…again…" I heard myself murmur, and then my feet were pounding the ground. Before even I knew what was happening, I had tackled the leader from behind. Blinded by pain and rage, with the element of surprise on my side, I managed to drive my fists into his face a couple of times. Turns out, he wasn't used to having his prey fight back, and it wasn't long before they fled. 

After that, I made sure nobody picked on me again. Until Gozaburo came.

His mind remembered those hurts as the piano softly murmured the beginning of Fur Elise. He also thought of the thin, pale scars that crisscrossed down his back and arms from his "father's" switch. They were the reason he always wore long sleeves. It seemed kind of ironic that the great, rich, powerful Seto Kaiba was actually hiding wherever he went. It had been tough then, mostly because so much more was on the line once he had actually been adopted. Gozaburo had the power to send Mokuba back to the orphanage, to split them up if he wasn't happy. With something like that hanging over his head, there was no way Seto could have fought back.

__

I don't remember what I had done wrong, only the pain. I remember the man's voice, lecturing as his supple rod painted lines of fire across my back. I remember struggling not to cry, to be stronger than that. It seemed to go on forever, as if he'd never grow tired. Then finally I felt his hand shove me from where I leaned against the wall, my uncovered back facing him, taking his punishment. I felt my hands slipping on the smooth paint and failing to support me. I saw the carpet coming up to meet me, barely cushioning my fall as I tumbled down. "Get out." His voice was low, cold, and furious, demanding immediate obedience. 

Aware of little else besides the pain, I scrambled from the room, not bothering to grab my shirt from the floor where it lay. I felt dampness on my face and convinced myself it was just sweat, refusing to accept that it might be tears. I burst into my room, stumbling and finally collapsing on the bed.

I lay on my front, the rumpled sheets soft and gentle against my chest and stomach. I pressed my face against I pillow, letting it soak up the tears I could no longer hold back. I didn't hear the door open. Suddenly a soft voice broke the silence. "Niisama…"

I looked up to see Mokuba standing by the bed. 

"Niisama…" He put his hand on my back, but drew it away when I flinched. I saw the thin lines of blood on his palm, only realizing just then that Gozaburo had broken my skin instead of just bruising it. "Does it hurt?"

"No, Mokuba," I lied. "I'm fine."

He nodded slightly, his eyes clearly telling that he wasn't falling for my ruse. I heard him pad from the room and shut the door. I forced myself to breathe, quieting my crying to nothingness. The door opened again a minute later. I looked up to see Mokuba holding a damp washcloth. He draped it over my back without a word; his worried eyes said everything for him. The wetness was cool and felt good on my hurts, soothing as Mokuba crept from the room. Funny how when the pain dies away it gives you more time and focus to build up feeling of resentment. I guess Gozaburo didn't know that he hurt my soul and warped my mind more than he injured my body.

R&R


	2. Closure

A bird fluttered outside the window, momentarily distracting him. His hands didn't falter though; Kaiba had always prided himself in being the kind of person who never forgot anything. His mind, however, didn't return to the music right away. The window had sparked another memory, or maybe two.

__

He died by the window much the same way one might die by the sword, as queer as it sounds. People say I murdered him, those that know anything about what happened. Nobody really knows much, though…not Mokuba, not even me. It all happened so fast. It wasn't me directly; I didn't shove him from the windowsill. Maybe I'd better explain. He had always said the life should be lived from the top, and that all who cannot be the best do not deserve to live. I wondered at that sometimes. I knew from watching Mokuba play with blocks that if everything goes on top and nothing goes on the bottom, the structure falls down. 

I didn't say that to Gozaburo, though. I guess that was the reason he worked me so hard: he wanted me to do well. I think it ironic that he seemed to want the best for me, and I despised him because of it. Well, I learned perhaps better than he had expected, and by the time I was thirteen, I had at least matched his level. Sometimes I wondered why he still bothered to send me to school. It was all lessons I had learned years ago. With no other choice to view it all as a game or else succumb to stressed insanity, I proceeded to play my very best. The ultimate feeling of victory came the day I claimed Kaiba Corp as my own. My pride swelled, watching the shock in Gozaburo's eyes as every single executive present rose and stood beside me, leaving him alone at his end of the table. For a moment, he stared in shock, and then he laughed out loud. He admitted defeat, and one last time repeated his belief that the losers should not live. 

Then he promptly turned about and threw himself through the window.

I had left that memory behind a long time ago, but something peculiar brought it back a year or so ago. It was when Pegasus was trying to take my hard-won company. As if he knew what I paid for it. I believe he thought he could eliminate me and take power effortlessly. Anyway, the guards burst into the room, both armed with guns. I, on the other hand, found myself with a briefcase, a screwdriver, and a rolling desk chair. Don't laugh. These things happen. I knew right away that I wouldn't make it out the door, and that they probably had others waiting outside if I did. So I used what I had, as I'd been trained to do. I kicked the chair at the mindless thugs before me. One of them had sense enough to fire off a shot, but my briefcase blocked that well enough. Before they had time to recover, I jumped onto the desk…and then through the window. Time seemed to slow as I fell. I saw the water and rocks far below and wondered if I was following in Gozaburo's footsteps. Was I defeated and now giving up my life because of it? Time snapped back into reality as I snagged the ledge with one hand. Let Pegasus think that way, I would show him…even break into my own house if I had to.

His fingers began a slow, mournful tune by Khachaturian. It had always reminded him of someone walking softly, though the title was "Ivan Sings." He had liked that song because sometimes it made the lady guests cry, especially if he had been playing a similar song before it. It was too short to do much on it's own, but sometimes if done just right, it would bring tears. He had liked that mostly because it gave him a sense of power. Gozaburo made him cry if anybody ever did, and he didn't like it when Mokuba cried, but here was a means and successful results for him to conjure up weeping when he liked. He had always despised those who succumbed, though, viewing them as too weak to withstand him. They were, he decided, the kind of people Gozaburo had said should die.

The notes echoed slowly and rhythmically through the song. Suddenly, an image and then a series of images flashed through his mind, replaying themselves from a corner of memories once forgotten.

_It was a peculiar dream a few weeks ago. Yes, I dream too; I'm only human…no matter how many times I try to pretend I'm not. I dreamt I was walking down a long hallway. It was dark, but not the sort of gloomy gray dark that was in Pegasus's dungeons. It was more of a warm brownish darkness. There were small points of light every now and then on the hall. They weren't really lamps, but they definitely weren't holes in the wall for sunlight to shine through. I wandered, rather lost, but without the queer panicky feeling that comes with being lost. I just didn't know where I was or where I was going. I didn't have my deck or a dueling disk with me, though. That was what really made me feel uncomfortable. I never went anywhere without at least my deck if I could help it. I kept walking because there was nothing else to do; no place to sit or lie down, just hallway. _

After a while, I noticed that there were doors every now and then on either side of me. For some reason, I felt no inclination to try them, and I passed every single one by. That was until I heard another sound, very different from my echoing footsteps. At first I wasn't sure what it was. Then, as I kept on walking, I realized it was crying. Whoever it was certainly tried to hide it, for they weren't the loud wails of those paid mourners you read about sometimes. I didn't change my pace, but I did start looking around for the source of the sound. 

Towards the end of the hall (yes, even I was surprised it had an end), there was a single open door from which light shone. I stopped to look in and investigate. It was small, and almost completely empty-in fact I thought it was at first. Then I spotted something in the corner. It was a person, a child to be more specific. He was curled up, weeping, hiding his face. Intrigued, I stepped closer and knelt before him. "What's wrong?" I inquired.

His shoulders trembled again, and he did not raise his head.

"Why are you here?" I tried, putting a hand on his arm. He recoiled as if I had bitten him, suddenly raising his head to face me.

I believe my eyes grew as wide as his. I knew that face; it was mine. We stared at each other for a while, and he slowly tried to back away. "You…you…" he kept saying. I didn't understand.

"What is it?"

"You were the one who almost abandoned Mokuba at Duelist Kingdom…"

"What?"

"I helped you out of the dungeons, but still you forgot!"

"Forgot what? What are you talking about??"

He put his hand over my heart. "Is there anything you hold dear there anymore? Don't you care about anything?"

"Mokuba…" I murmured.

He was angry now. "Do you really? Or is he slipping from you? You've spent too much time with imitations of life to know the real feelings of it. How many times have you rejected the heart of living?"

I fell back a step. "I don't understand…"

He looked so sad I thought he was going to cry again. "Remember what it was like when we were one. Remember your feelings; that's where you'll find the answer."

"On my own??"  
"Oh yes. Seto Kaiba never needs help from anyone." The hurt in his eyes gave the sarcasm extra bite. 

I flinched.

"Fine. Look to the cheerful ones if you must… Mokuba, Yuugi, Jounouchi…" He started to become transparent. "Maybe you'll…remember…someday…" He was gone.

Then I woke up.

Seto brought his hands crashing down on the piano keys with a bang. He had cursed that dream with all his heart when he realized what it meant. He had tried to dismiss it as "only a fleeting dream," but it hadn't worked. The child's face haunted his waking and sleeping hours perpetually. Taking a deep breath, he started a slow, orderly song: "Prelude" from the Well-Tempered Clavier. It was strange how illusions could change reality.

_I finally realized that I'd have to give in to the dream or go mad. I couldn't wipe it from my memory, and always the boy's voice rang in my mind. So finally I decided to try something. At lunch, I walked over to Yuugi's gang. "Mind if I join you?" I asked._

Every single mouth dropped open (which wasn't a pretty sight considering how Honda and the puppy dog eat.) "S…sure," Yuugi managed to stammer out. Anzu was still choking on her noodles. So I ate lunch with them. I didn't say much, just sort of sat in and listened to the things they talked about. What got me the most was how much they laughed. I guess I'm kind of their opposite, considering my past is gilt with tears and pain. But they'd laugh or smile at anything. The guys would tell outrageous stories or do impressions of the teachers, or they'd go over some long-past duel when Jounouchi had still been learning. Honda even brought up one of Anzu's attempts at dancing. She turned bright red, but she obviously found it humorous too. I was completely blown away. Sure, I'd smile or maybe even laugh in triumph (and not a little evilly) towards the end of a duel, but I'd never smiled nicely since the orphanage…well, maybe once, when I saw Mokuba after Pegasus's defeat. But these people were so genuinely happy it was completely beyond me. 

Another thing was how at ease they were. I'd never realized it before, but I'm really paranoid. Sure, they don't have a coveted multi-billion dollar corporation to hold onto and run, but something about how they interacted told me that even if they did, they wouldn't be all that different. (I shudder now to think of my beloved company in the hands of the puppy dog…) They weren't always looking over their shoulders to make sure nobody would stab them in the back. They weren't afraid to be friendly, to care about others, to express themselves. It's weird. In addition, the strangest thing happened today at lunch. The puppy dog was imitating my reaction when Exodia destroyed my Blue Eyes White Dragons.

And, watching him, I smiled.

R&R


End file.
